


Tangens, Secans

by orphan_account



Series: Mutatis Mutandis [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Dipper Pines, Alternative Universe - FBI, Bill is 32, Body Dysphoria, Criminal Masterminds, Dark Past, Dipper is 27, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Genderfluid Character, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Minor Violence, Trans Dipper Pines, Undercover as a Couple, like as in he's actually a human being
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper Pines is a rookie FBI Agent in Portland – and he is partnered with the devious and breathtaking Special Agent Bill Cipher. They are assigned to a case that brings them undercover to Gravity Falls, Dipper’s adopted hometown. That wouldn’t be a problem per se. But Dipper somehow found himself posing as Cipher’s boyfriend and the lines between work and play start to blur more and more the longer they stay in Gravity Falls. Also, who is Bill Cipher really?</p><p><i>tangens</i> - lat. touching<br/><i>secans</i> - lat. cutting</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

▲▼▲

“Gravity Falls?”

“Yep. Something wrong? You look a bit pale.”

Dipper gulped audibly, but met his partner’s shrewd two-colored gaze.

“Um, I have family there.”

“Perfect.” Cipher snapped his file folder shut and looked positively delighted. “That way we won’t have to forge a background.”

“Background?”

“Yes! We’ll be undercover for this mission.”

Dipper gulped again, staring at the photo of a very familiar house. The Northwest Mansion, to be precise.

“So, what, I’ll … pretend to be visiting my family? What about you?”

“Why, I’ll be your lover of course.”

Apparently that was that, and Dipper didn’t actually know how they managed to agree on an actual course of actions – it felt more like Cipher deciding on stuff and him nodding along – but he found himself sitting at his desk, calling his sister, announcing that he was going to come home for some time.

“That’s so cool, bro-bro!”

Well, at least someone was excited about this.

“Yeah, listen, I’m gonna bring someone?”

“Dipper!” Mabel gasped exaggeratedly. “Did you find a cute girl in Portland? Tell me everything! Is she into mysteries, or, oh, does she have three eyes and tentacles?”

“Uh, not exactly? We, um, met at work actually. And it’s … a he?”

“Sometimes at least,” came Cipher’s distracted murmur from behind him. He let out a dumb “Huh?” and turned to gape at his partner, who was picking at his fingernails. Mabel at the other end was silent for a few seconds before she, mysteriously, started to cackle.

“Oh, Dipdop, I always knew. But still, hey, tell me everything. What’s his name, what cologne does he wear, is he a merman, and most importantly, does he like sweaters?”

“Mabel, seriously,” Dipper groaned, twirling the telephone cord around his finger.

“Come on, Goober!”

“Fine. Uh … His name’s Bill? Bill Cipher. He’s a Special Agent. Don’t know about his cologne or whether or not he likes sweaters.” He rolled his eyes at Cipher’s snort. “That’s a no, I think.”

“I’ll convert him, don’t worry. So are you coming to the Northwest LumberBall this weekend then?”

Dipper froze for a moment before recovering.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes, that’s … _exactly_ why we wanted to come. Have Pacifica arrange invites for me and a plus-one.”

“Sure thing. Hey, let me talk to your boyfriend for a sec.”

“Um, okay?” He held out the receiver to Cipher, who stared at it for a second. Then he grabbed it, and suddenly he _changed_. Dipper couldn’t describe it as anything else, it was like he put on a mask, or dropped one, because suddenly there was this laughing and smiling person, glowing with happiness and _young love_. Dipper just sat there gaping at his partner, not even registering what he was saying or wondering what he might be giggling about with his twin.

Mabel and Cipher couldn’t have been on the phone for very long, but Dipper spent those short minutes staring at his partner, _noticing_ things he didn’t even know could be seen. Like … He knew that Cipher had heterochromia iridum, of course he did, it was a very distinct feature. But before he’d just thought his eyes were a very dark and a very light brown. Now he was pretty sure they were black and gold. And the way his dark skin stretched over gun-callused fingers. Or how his voice actually wasn’t shrill despite the rather high pitch – it was just bright. Everything about him was either blindingly bright or staggeringly dark.

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry,” Cipher laughed and looked at Dipper in a way that said _I know you’ve been staring at me for the last few minutes, and I know I’m fucking gorgeous, but it’s getting creepy_. Then he handed him the receiver and pursed his lips, and suddenly he was the hard-set, distant Special Agent Dipper thought he knew. Well, apparently not.

“Hew-a-ho,” Dipper blurted out, feeling himself blushing furiously. “I mean, uh, hi. Back. Um.”

Mabel just laughed, but that didn’t actually help, since Dipper could basically feel Cipher’s two-colored stare cutting his skin. God, had he already endangered their mission by _fucking staring at his partner for too long_?

“He sounds really nice, and I can see you two working really well. I mean, with him being genderfluid, I’d wager he’s really understanding about you being … you know.”

Suddenly all blood drained from his head, and all he could do was gape like a fish. Cipher’s gaze was searching, and surprisingly gentle.

“Haah, huh?”

“Aw, Dippy, my awkward, sweaty little brother. I imagine telling him you’re trans wasn’t exactly easy, huh?”

When Dipper only continued to gape, Cipher rolled his eyes, hopped off Dipper’s desk and popped a gum in his mouth.

“I’ll pick you up at yours tomorrow. Seven o’clock sharp. Be prepared,” was all the older agent said before sauntering off.

Dipper couldn’t help but stare after him while Mabel babbled in his ear. Damn, Cipher’s ass and legs looked really nice in slacks. How blind had he been the last few months not to notice that?

▲▼▲

“Fucking Porsche,” Dipper growled as he loaded his suitcase into the shiny black car that had pulled over directly in front of his apartment block, engines revving arrogantly. It was summer and already pretty warm, so Cipher had his window open, arm hanging out lazily. Dipper refused to let the smooth leather and car-smell and purring of the engine get to him. He refused.

But Cipher in a white, half-transparent linen shirt, undone to the fourth button to reveal an unholy expanse of dark, smooth skin? Sunglasses tipped precariously on the tip of his nose? Wild black curls unleashed and fluttering in the breeze? And that damn chewing-gum again. Chewing really brought out his nice, sharp jawline.

He looked gorgeous. Dipper was going to die.

“You look horrible,” Cipher greeted him. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Dipper grumbled and fastened his seatbelt, refusing to look at his partner. But then Cipher started driving, and … Shouldn’t officers of the law act as a model to citizens? He was pretty sure they were driving at double the allowed speed, and Cipher was only steering with the fingertips of his left hand, elbow still hanging out the window, occasionally changing gears with his right. And all of that with an air of bored confidence.

By the time they reached the highway Dipper was a shivering and quivering mess of fear, sweat and confused arousal.

And then the fucker turned on the radio. _The classical station._

As far too often lately all that was left for Dipper to do was to gape.

“Tell me about Gravity Falls.”

When Dipper didn’t answer immediately, he put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Shouldn’t I have told your sister that I know you’re trans? You’ve been acting weird ever since.”

“I never told you,” Dipper said harshly, defensively, and crossed his arms. He itched to check the fit of his binder, but he forcibly kept himself from doing so.

“I’m sorry. I just noticed.”

“It’s private.”

Cipher removed his hand to change the gear.

“I saw you put away a syringe once. At first I thought you were using, but you don’t look like a junkie – no trembling of the hands, no sickly pallor.” He turned down the radio until it was little more than background noise. “Also I saw your original file. You were still registered under your birth name.”

“ _What_?”

“Come on.” It was obvious he was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Did you think I wouldn’t read your file? _All_ of your files?”

“I never read yours.”

“You should have. Read it as soon as we get back.”

Dipper fumed for a few minutes, stubbornly watching the plain landscape rush past them.

“It’s private. I never told you.”

“I know. But now you know I’m fluid, so we’re even, I suppose.”

Dipper dared a cautious glance at Cipher.

“So that wasn’t just to … I don’t know. That’s true?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” A pause. “Okay, I would. But I didn’t.”

He leaned his forehead against the cool window, trying to picture Cipher as a girl. He could actually see it. He had the narrow frame for it, and he’d already seen him drop and put on masks like it was nothing. Only he suspected they weren’t actually masks. More like facets of his self. So there was a funny Cipher, and a stern Cipher, as well as a solemn Cipher, a brutally honest Cipher, and a calculating Cipher. A guy Cipher, and a girl Cipher. So, as a sort of kindred spirit, he decided to trust him.

“The first time I came to Gravity falls me and Mabel were twelve years old. We were visiting our Grunkle … our grand-uncle Stan over the summer …”

▲▼▲

An hour later Dipper ran out of things to tell about Gravity Falls. He’d told Cipher everything about his family, his friends and the people living there. The locations. The Northwest Mansion, the Northwest family, its history. The supernatural occurrences. That the journals and the hunger for knowledge they kindled in him were one of the reasons why he wanted to become an agent.

Cipher hadn’t said anything, just nodded and absorbed all the knowledge. It was slightly disconcerting, but then he also had to concentrate on driving, so Dipper supposed that was okay.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you become an agent?”

“It’s a long story.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow and stared at his partner.

“We’ve got time.”

Cipher was silent, seemingly concentrated on overtaking a truck, but Dipper could see the tightening of his jaw. He’d stopped chewing his gum.

“I was recruited from the dark side, so to speak,” he started, giving Dipper a quick glance over the rim of his sunglasses. “If you’d read my file you’d know I don’t exactly have a clean record. On the contrary even. My father was the head of a cartel – we smuggled drugs, people, anything really. He … wasn’t a good father.”

“I can imagine that,” Dipper said dryly, trying to sound joking. It was obvious this was a touchy subject for Cipher.

“He killed my mother when I was five. I waited until I was fourteen, big enough to swing a baseball bat. The next time he … Well, I returned the favor.”

Dipper gasped, pressing a hand to his mouth. He looked out of the window, trying to get the nausea roiling in his stomach to subside. It shouldn’t be possible to imagine a fourteen year old Bill Cipher swinging a baseball bat, killing his father in cold-blooded revenge. But he could. He’d seen him shoot people with a focus and calm that spoke of experience. He knew his partner didn’t shy from using lethal force in close quarters. Still, he didn’t think of Cipher as a murderer.

Perhaps he should.

“And then?” he asked, when Cipher didn’t continue. He warily watched the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“I replaced my father as head of the cartel. We expanded our influence all along the west coast. I stopped the human trafficking, specializing on the theft of information – blackmail material, stock values, credit card numbers. Ever heard of the Cipher Wheel?”

“Sure, that was this huge bank scandal back in- … Oh my god.”

Cipher laughed dryly.

“That was when the FBI learned my identity. They offered me a deal.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Shit.”

“Anyway, they use me as an asset to uncover gangs, clans and cartels now. I know the lingo, I can blend in, and I still know people in the business. They owe me favors from way back.” He put his hand on Dipper’s shoulder again. “But I don’t want you to be afraid of me. You’re my partner. I rely on you, and I want you to be able to rely on me as well. Especially if we’re going to pose as a couple.”

Dipper didn’t know what to say to that, so he just allowed Cipher to squeeze his shoulder.

They left the highway sometime after, and Dipper started to recognize the road. Once he saw a Speedy Beaver Bus, and he checked to see whether Soos was driving. He wasn’t, but it still felt nostalgic.

Before they entered Gravity Falls, Cipher stopped the car by the road.

“What are you doing?” Dipper asked.

“One: from now on I’m gonna need you to direct me. Two: got our story ready?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Three: get over here and kiss me.”

Dipper froze, realizing he must look like a deer in the headlights.

“That’s exactly why we need to get this over with right now,” Cipher sighed and took off his sunglasses. “You need to be comfortable with letting me into your private sphere.”

“Okay, I get that.” He swallowed and wrung his hands in his lap. “It’s just … I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Cipher turned in his seat and stared at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Pretty boy like you, un-kissed?”

He felt himself blush furiously at being called ‘pretty’, but nodded an affirmative.

“I’ve always been super awkward, and the people I crush on are either uninterested, not gay, put off by- …” He waved at his chest and lap, grimacing. “Or they’re fictional.”

Cipher laughed at the last bit, but it wasn’t a malicious laugh.

“Come on, then. Just a friendly peck, no Frenching or anything. First time for everything, right?”

“Okay, I guess.” He turned a bit awkwardly, held back by his seatbelt. But Cipher looked comfortable and relaxed, one hand on the back of Dipper’s seat and the other draped loosely over the steering wheel. He should feel trapped, caged in with no escape, and for a moment he thought about opening the door and just running until he got to the Mystery Shack. But Cipher looked beautiful and inviting, and most of all kind and patient. He was everything Dipper needed right then to trust him and lean forward. Halfway there he started blushing again, but Cipher seemed to feel his self-consciousness and met him in the middle.

Dipper had often imagined what kissing somebody might be like. Romance novels described it as searing and electrifying, friends told him it was very intimate. But this just felt relaxing. Like falling, yes, but like falling into bed after a long shift at the office.

Cipher chuckled against his mouth, and there were dexterous fingers playing with an unruly strand of Dipper’s hair behind his ear. He realized he must have closed his eyes, but before he could open them or pull away, the warm softness pressed against his lips moved, coaxing him. Instinctively he knew something was required of him, but what?

They parted, then, with an embarrassing squelching noise, and Dipper pressed the back of his hand to his mouth in order to keep himself from licking his lips. Cipher just chuckled again and pushed the lock of hair his fingers had tangled in back behind Dipper’s ear.

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” he said and started the engine again.

Dipper just shook his head and squirmed in his seat as inconspicuously as possible. That hadn’t been bad at all, but that wasn’t the problem. Quite the contrary, in fact.

“Follow the main road through the town center,” he said after they drove past he first few houses. “There should be a sign later, several actually, that point in the direction of the Mystery Shack. That’s where my Grunkle and Mabel live.”

Dipper lowered the window and poked out his head to wave at Lazy Susan and McGucket by Greasy’s Diner and later to greet Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland.

“These two are definitely _not_ a reason why I wanted to become an officer of the law,” Dipper said dryly, when Cipher gave him a curious look. “Turn left here.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, and Dipper started to get nervous. They had two days to get settled and listen around for information on their case before the Northwest LumberBall. Two days during which he would need to act like Cipher’s boyfriend in front of his family and closest friends, who all knew him better sometimes than he did himself. It sounded like a cheap C-movie plot, and if cheap C-movies taught him anything, there were lots of things that could go wrong.

“Stop fidgeting,” came Cipher’s calm reprimand, just as they pulled into the clearing where the Mystery Shack loomed. “Don’t think about the case, right now you should concentrate on your family.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He tried to smile, but soon broke out into a genuine grin, when he saw Mabel, wearing a panda sweater, opening the door with Waddles in her arms. She started to bounce on her toes and called something over her shoulder, into the Shack.

“You can park here,” Dipper said absentmindedly, already unfastening his seatbelt. The second the car stopped, he was out the door and running towards his sister. “Mabes!”

“Dips!” She set down Waddles and held out her arms. “Awkward sibling hug?”

“Awkward sibling hug.”

He embraced her tightly, reveling in the unique smell of glue, lemonade and – mysteriously – glitter that was his twin.

“Wow,” she said, muffled by his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re taller now.”

“Hey, kid!”

“Grunkle Stan!” He lifted his head from where he’d buried it in Mabel’s wild nest of hair to grin at his favorite Grunkle. Underneath the stern scowl he could see the fondness they shared. And over his shoulder he could see a familiar cap and lovable face.

“Welcome back, dude.”

“Soos, hey big guy.”

“Wendy’s coming along soon too, little guy.”

“And we all know who _this_ is.”

Dipper reluctantly let his sister go and watched as she approached Cipher, who had unloaded their suitcases.

“You must be Mabel then. I’m Bill.” He held out a hand, which Mabel ignored in favor of pulling him into a big Mabel trademark Mabel Hug.

“Grunkle Stan, can we keep this one?” she asked, directing her Mabel trademark Mabel Pout at them as soon as she let Cipher go.

“He’s mine, sis, you can’t keep him,” Dipper said, surprising himself.

The next few minutes were a scramble over who got the privilege of carrying Dipper’s and Cipher’s suitcases into the attic, which Soos won with amiable steadfastness. Grunkle Stan then continued by loudly giving Cipher the Shovel Talk aka If You Hurt My Nephew I’ll Throw You Into the Bottomless Pit Which Is Bottomless.

“I can respect that,” Cipher replied with a grin that had somehow far too many teeth, but Mabel defused the situation by announcing that Pacifica had just arrived.

The blonde woman who entered was just as Dipper remembered her, though her arrogance – so he now knew – was just a guise that distracted from the underlying passion and intelligence of the young Northwest heiress.

“Nice car,” she said offhandedly to Cipher as a way of greeting, and when Cipher commented on her shoes, she looked surprised but pleased.

“So, you two.”

Dipper stared in horror at the Polaroid camera in his twin’s hands.

“Where did you get that?” he asked incredulously.

“Magic,” she said cheerfully and waved an impatient hand. “Give us a kiss, you lovebirds! This is going into my summer scrapbook.”

“Mabel,” he protested, but then there were strong arms encircling him from behind. He could feel Cipher chuckling against his back.

“He’s still a bit shy.”

“I’m always shy,” Dipper squawked, but he felt himself relax against the warm solidness of Cipher’s chest. It was comfortable. They were both about the same height, similar build, and Cipher’s arm didn’t graze the edge of his binder, nor did his hands stray anywhere near his hips. It was … safe.

“Aww!” The camera clicked, whirred and released a square photograph, pale at first, but when Mabel waved it around and then held it out with a coo, Dipper swallowed. He looked pliant but relaxed in the circle of Cipher’s arms, tall in a way that had nothing to do with physical height. That confidence mirrored the direct gaze Cipher had directed at the camera when Mabel shot the picture. There was a possessiveness in the way their bodies were tilted, a sense of _I belong to him and he belongs to me_.

“I like it,” Cipher murmured, his breath tickling Dipper’s ear.

“Of course you do,” he snorted and let his body do the thinking as he burrowed his head under the comfortable-looking crook of Cipher’s neck. Distantly he marveled at how similar this synchronicity was to the way they had to anticipate and mirror each other’s movements during training, covering each other during a shooting or knowing what the other was looking at when they were poring over evidence.

“Are you dudes hungry?” Soos asked then. “We got some leftovers.”

“We had Standwiches for lunch,” Mabel piped up. “They’re like sandwiches, but with Stan in them.”

“Uh, no thanks. I’d actually like to change,” Dipper said.

“I’m good too, though a coffee would be nice.”

“Okay, you go change, Pines, we’ll abduct your boyfriend,” Pacifica said and, together with Soos and Mabel, herded Cipher into the kitchen.

“Be right back,” Dipper called and took the steps to the attic two at once. The room still looked as he remembered, only the posters and knickknacks having changed from when he and Mabel had been twelve. He didn’t bother unpacking his suitcase – he only had their casefiles, a suit for the LumberBall and some job-related equipment in there – but chose a plain t-shirt and shorts to change into. With a quick look into the mirror he made sure his unruly hair didn’t do anything illegal before stomping back downstairs.

In the kitchen he instinctively focused in on Cipher, who seemed to be the center of attention wherever he went. He sat on the wobbly chair as if it was a throne, and drank his coffee with an air of ease, and Mabel and Pacifica seemed to be entranced by his bright voice. Soos and Grunkle Stan were nowhere to be seen.

“You don’t look like you need rescuing,” Dipper said jokingly and grabbed a cookie from the jar on the table.

“Oh no,” Cipher moaned in fake theatrics, pressing a hand to his forehead. “My military training has abandoned me – I suffer from Stockholm syndrome! I feel compassion for my captors!”

“Military training? I thought all you had was criminal training.”

Cipher scowled.

“Oh, sorry, shouldn’t I have told my family that my boyfriend is a criminal mastermind?” he asked coyly and bit into his cookie. This earned him an inelegant snort and a playful shove.

“For that you are sentenced to an hour of foot massage,” Cipher said haughtily, and planted his feet in Dipper’s lap.

“I’ll have you know I’m an almost-licensed reflexologist.”

“Almost-licensed? How does tha-haah!”

Dipper laughed, and pressed the spot again, giving Mabel and Pacifica a mischievous wink. Their baffled faces dissolved into grins at Cipher’s groans of pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re good.”

“Careful, you’ll spill your coffee,” Mabel giggled.

“Fuck the coffee. Ah, _fuck me_ ….”

“Does he always curse this much when he’s turned on?” Pacifica asked in a fake-bored tone. Her eyes were as big as saucers and clearly fixed on the obscene faces Cipher was pulling.

“Um, maybe?” Dipper blushed, tried not to look at his partner’s grimaces, and moved his knuckles.

“If I could get you upstairs without you having to stop whatever the fuck you’re doing, I’d do it right fucking now. _Fuck, right there!_ ”

Mortified, Dipper let go of Cipher’s feet, ignoring the unwanted tingle of arousal. Nope, he was _not_ thinking about his partner saying that in a different context.

“Don’t stop!” the older agent whined, but then slumped forward and rested his head on the table. “Fuck, I didn’t even know I had that kink.”

“Kids, no sex in the kitchen!” came Stan’s shout from somewhere in the Shack, and inexplicably, Mabel and Pacifica exchanged a mysterious look at that.

“Guys, do you want to tell me something?” Dipper asked, horrified.

“Nope,” Mabel said a bit too fast, blushing to the root.

“Oh my god, is no one in this damn family straight? I mean, I’m not even cis.”

“We’re the, uh, statistical outlier?”

Dipper sighed and tried to push Cipher’s feet off his lap, but he put them back again.

“Sorry for the cookie stains on your feet by the way.”

“You can lick them off,” Cipher said and grinned lewdly.

“Ew, no!”

“No food play then?”

“You’re so gross,” Dipper grumbled, but he had to keep himself from squirming in his seat. It was gross, he didn’t want to lick those graceful if a bit bony toes or the elegant arch of his foot. Not at all. It wasn’t hot or sexy or filthy in a definitely erotic way.

Cipher sighed and pulled his feet back.

“I’ll just have to do it all by myself. Upstairs. Alone. On the bed.”

As he sauntered out of the kitchen he brushed against Dipper’s side, dragging a long-fingered hand through his hair.

“Dipper!” Pacifica hissed.

“What?”

“Bro-bro, I think you boyfriend needs a helping hand,” Mabel cackled.

“No he doesn’t,” Dipper protested, blushing furiously when a loud moan echoed through the Shack. “I’ll, um, see if he’s okay. Just. Um. To be sure.”

The two girls nodded sagely at his hasty retreat, and by the time Dipper stood in front of the door to the attic room he felt as hot and winded as if he’d just run a marathon. Should he knock? No way, this was his room, and Cipher was his partner, he wouldn’t really … Or would he? Cipher was shameless, and he certainly liked to make Dipper uncomfortable.

Bracing himself he pushed open the door and squawked when he saw Cipher throw a used-looking condom in the bin.

“Took you long enough,” Cipher murmured distractedly and flopped onto the bed.

The bed. Singular.

“Oh my god. Do they expect us to share?” Dipper said loudly and then hit his forehead. “Fuck, they think we’re a couple, of course they’d put a double bed in here.”

“One hundred points to Mr. Pines!” Cipher sat up again, clapping ironically. “Hey, where’d you put the case files?”

“My suitcase.” He made a vague waving motion, but remained standing by the door, staring at the bin. “Um, you didn’t actually …?”

“Of course I didn’t masturbate in the minute it took you to get up here, Dipper. I’m not sixteen anymore. But in case anyone goes snooping – which I suspect your sister is very likely to do, no offense – they’ll think we were having sex.” He opened the suitcase and rifled through the contents. “But you did add a new kink to my already long list, so hats off to you.”

He looked up from under his wild curls, raking a calculating gaze over Dipper’s body.

“Are you sure you’re a virgin?”

“Uh, pretty sure, yeah.”

Cipher wolf-whistled and started sorting their files. Dipper carefully made his way over to the desk where he remembered poring over the mysterious journals he’d found in Gravity Falls. Cipher threw some folders at him, and he started re-reading them to reacquaint himself to the case.

“Is Pacifica a suspect?” he asked after a while.

“Everyone’s a fucking suspect. All we know is that Gravity Falls is where it all seems to lead to. It’s where the trail ends, and to be frank, from what you told me about this town I wouldn’t actually be surprised to find a human sacrificing cult here. And I wish I meant that in a sarcastic way.”

“You’re right, but … surely not Pacifica?” Dipper held up the file he’d been reading, with a photograph of the young blonde woman pinned to the top.

“Dipper, just because you think you know someone doesn’t mean they can’t hide horrifying secrets,” Cipher said gravely. “But say she’s not part of the cult – she could still have valuable information, or ties to people who are. So it’s important to look at _everyone_. You need to be Agent Dipper Pines with the FBI, not Mabel’s twin or your Grunkle’s favorite nephew.”

“I’m his only nephew.”

“That is beside the point. We’re _undercover_.” He closed his folder and grabbed another one. “I saw the way you looked at me before. And I have to say I’m tempted too – I didn’t lie when I said you were pretty. But A, I’m your superior, and we’re partners; and B, we can’t let anything get in the way of doing our job. Lives are at stake.”

“I know, I know.”

Dipper chewed on the end of his pen as he stared at the picture of Pacifica. It looked like an enlarged passport photo, or maybe it was taken from her driver’s license. Her face looked weird, expressionless like this, and the lighting did odd things to her complexion and her hair color. While she wasn’t his absolute most favorite person in the world, he didn’t want to use her like that. Lying to her just to get his job done. Having to be able to think of her as a cold-blooded cult murderer.

But then, Cipher was right. Lives were at stake. Eleven people had been found dead in the forest surrounding Gravity Falls – either residents of the small town, people who had been seen passing through or people who had business ties to it. There was no pattern to them, apart from the clear ritualistic nature of their murder – some had been young, some older, of several ethnicities and even nationalities. One should think that in a small town like Gravity Falls _someone_ should have noticed something, anything. But Dipper knew how ignorant the people of Gravity Falls could be. Downright stupid, sometimes.

He set Pacifica’s folder aside and picked up another one. This one made his stomach clench.

“We should look at this guy first.” He held up the photograph of a young man with white, dramatically styled hair. “Gideon Gleeful.”

A fire lit in Cipher’s eyes, a light Dipper knew very well. It was the look of a predator who had picked up the scent of his prey.

▲▼▲

Almost an hour later a knock on the door made them both jump.

“Are you guys decent?” came Mabel’s muffled voice.

“Just a sec!”

They scrambled to hide the map and files they’d spread on the bed, and then Dipper hurried to the door while Cipher tucked away the last folders.

“You might want to come down, Wendy just arrived, and she really wants to meet you, Bill.”

“Sure, we’ll be right there,” Cipher said, looking like he was buttoning his shirt, and his hair undone in a way that screamed _I just got fucked within an inch of my life_.

Dipper tried to exude an air of smug confidence, puffing out his chest when Mabel gave him an incredulous look, like she hadn’t actually thought Dipper and Cipher were a real _thing_. Like she couldn’t believe her brother actually got to tap that ass. To be honest, if anyone knew how stuck-up, embarrassed, awkward and sweaty Dipper was, Mabel did. And facing the odds, it really seemed improbable for someone like Dipper to end up in bed with someone like Cipher – much less be in a relationship with them. Or so Dipper thought.

The three of them went downstairs and out onto the porch, where Wendy lounged on a deck chair.

“Hey, Dipper,” she said and straightened when she saw Cipher.

“Special Agent Bill Cipher,” he said, offering his hand to be shaken. “You can call me Bill though. Or Cipher. Or ‘special’.” He winked, and she laughed. Something in Dipper relaxed instantaneously.

“Dipper’s always had good taste, didn’t you, little guy,” she said and took a swig from her Pitt cola.

“Shut up, Wendy,” he laughed and flopped onto the porch bench. He caught Cipher making a strange face, but then Soos handed them both a Pitt can, and he savored the taste of home. “Man, I missed this stuff.”

“What is it though?” Cipher asked, sniffing cautiously.

“Pitt cola,” Mabel explained. “But beware the peach pit at the bottom.”

“Wow, Gravity Falls really is crazy. I thought Dipper was exaggerating.”

“Hey, so, Mabel said you guys met at work, and you’re a Special Agent?” Wendy mused. “You’re both FBI then?”

“Yeah. Technically I’m Dipper’s boss, since I’m higher-ranking, but actually we’re partners.”

“Isn’t there a rule or something that forbids partners to … ‘liaise’?”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with our casework our superiors usually look the other way. We’re actually a better team for it. He used to stare at my ass and drop folders or miss shots.” Cipher grinned. “Now he just stares at my ass.”

“Hey!” Dipper protested.

“Can we see your guns?” Mabel changed the subject.

Dipper hesitated, but Cipher reached to his belt and removed his gun from its holster. With a few quick motions he unloaded it and then handed it to Mabel.

“Now you can’t possibly shoot anyone with it.”

“Wow … Dipper?”

“Mine’s exactly the same,” he said and crossed his arms.

“He’s a bit gun-sensitive,” Cipher snickered and accepted his pistol back from Mabel. He swiftly reloaded it and put it in its holster.

“So you always wear them?”

“Yeah, we’re required to be armed at all times.”

“Even at the LumberBall this weekend?” Pacifica asked.

“Even in bed?” Wendy added

“Even during sex?”

Cipher grinned at the last question from Mabel.

“Dipper likes it when I point my big gun at him,” he purred and winked salaciously. Dipper groaned and took another gulp of Pitt to hide his face.

“Kids these days.” Grunkle Stan came around the corner of the house and looked at them sternly with his hands on his hips.

“As if you were any better at our age, old man,” Wendy laughed and waved her Pitt can.

“Yeah, I distinctly recall an incident that involved a Columbian prison?” Mabel said sweetly, and Stan blanched.

“I’ve been to Columbia,” Cipher piped up, inspecting his nails. “They really do have nice prisons.”

“You’ve been in a Columbian prison?” Stan asked skeptically.

“Sure. Not as an inmate though. I was visiting a … friend.”

“You mean you were ‘visiting’ a ‘friend’?” Dipper drew quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

“Exactly.” Cipher grinned. “Man, I love a good prison break.”

“Are you sure your boyfriend’s FBI?” Pacifica stage-whispered to Dipper.

“He assured me his lawbreaking days were over,” he said and shrugged. “Though I do believe he has no regard for speed limits.”

“Speed limits are for losers who can’t drive,” Cipher grumbled defensively.

“Misuse of the police car siren?” Dipper asked.

“Oh, every second Thursday. You should see their faces when I pull up in front of my house with the siren on.”

“Well, you guys can’t be worse than Blubs and Durland,” Stan grumbled, joining Dipper on the bench with a can of Pitt in his hand.

“We’re not that kind of law enforcement though.”

“What kind of cases do you guys work on anyway?” Wendy asked.

“Gang criminality, smuggler rings, syndicates, that kind of thing,” Cipher replied off-handedly.

“What’s your current case?”

“Cultism,” Cipher answered, and at the same Dipper said: “That’s confidential.”

They looked at each other.

“Oops.” Cipher grinned.

“You’re such a rebel sometimes, I can’t believe the FBI assigned me – a rookie – to you. You’re no role model at all!” Dipper complained. But actually it was part of their plan to drop hints of their case to Dipper’s family – perhaps something would come up in conversation and lead them somewhere.

“Cultism?” Pacifica asked.

“Oh you know, blood rituals, animal sacrifices, that kind of stuff.”

“Ask Robbie then, he always hangs out on the cemetery,” Pacifica grumbled.

“That’s not the same though,” Wendy protested. “He’s just a Goth – doesn’t mean he kills squirrels or whatever and makes deals with the devil.”

“We’re not concerned about that anyway,” Dipper cut in before an argument could break loose. “We’re only called in if the cult is large, leaving evidence on the territory of several states, and for example if human blood were used. Or if the animals killed were cattle or game.”

Well, they didn’t need to know they were actually investigating eleven murders, did they? So he quickly changed the topic and started telling them about the office, the people on their squad and Portland in general. Sometimes Cipher added something, an anecdote or some detail Dipper had missed.

They ate a very relaxed dinner sprawled all over the patio. Trying to fulfil their image as a couple freshly in love Dipper joined Cipher on a blanket they had spread, where they fed each other morsels off their plates. Mabel made sounds that indicated her heart was probably bursting from the sweetness of it, while Pacifica gagged.

“Hey Bill,” Wendy called and waved her sandwich. “I’m just gonna assume you did the first step, yeah? What was your pick-up line?”

“Ooh, good question,” Mabel giggled.

“Well, we were in the car, observation duty. Pretty boring, so I just leaned over and kissed him.”

Soos wolf-whistled.

“Not bad, dude. No time wasted!”

“Dipper freaked out though,” Cipher said and pouted.

“Nearly jumped through the roof of the car,” Dipper added, earning himself a strange look from his partner. Before he could frown and ask what was wrong, Cipher had leaned forward and claimed his mouth in a demanding kiss. Dipper whimpered, unconsciously reaching out and gripping Cipher’s shirt. Distantly he heard encouraging whistles and hoots, but the warm body pressed against his was more important. The hand buried in his hair – his own hand buried in heavy, thick curls. The soft lips moving against his, tasting like cucumber and cheese.

“Hey, no sex on the blanket!”

“My innocent eyes!”

“Oh.” Dipper jerked away, realizing he’s been straddling Cipher’s hips. “How did … I get here?”

Cipher grimaced and moved his arms, which had been wrapped around Dipper’s waist and shoulders to let his hands come to rest on Dipper’s hips. His face was tucked under Dipper’s jaw, and he cursed once, softly, inaudible for everyone else. When Dipper tried to slide away, he tightened his grip.

“Don’t move just yet,” Cipher murmured, and Dipper blushed furiously, realizing what he was actually sitting on.

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you actually happy to see me?” he joked, trying to get past his embarrassment and tease Cipher in return. This close up, he could see that both of his partner’s eyes were black now, except for a golden ring that remained of his left iris.

“Well, this is awkward,” Mabel announced brightly from somewhere behind them.

“Do you want to …? I mean, we could …?” Dipper discreetly tried to point at the window of the attic room above them. For a second he feared Cipher had misunderstood – his breath hitched, and the splay of his fingers on Dipper’s hips tightened almost painfully – but then he nodded, cool and composed again. They could use this opportunity to continue their planning uninterrupted.

“See you guys later,” Dipper called as he dragged Cipher back inside the Shack.

“You mean ‘see you tomorrow’, lovebirds?”

“Don’t forget we’re going shopping!”

Dipper rolled his eyes in fond exasperation.

“So. Tell me more about this Robbie guy, then,” Cipher sighed and tugged their files back out of Dipper’s suitcase. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your opinion.”

“Oh, he’s harmless. I mean, he’s a self-centered wannabe-musician, who likes to dress all in black and wears guyliner, sure, but he’s not a serial killer.”

Cipher raised an eyebrow and tossed Dipper a file.

“You’re trying to be nonchalant, which means you’re hiding something.”

“Am not!”

“Do you two have a history?”

Dipper groaned and leafed through Robbie’s file. It was very uninteresting and bland, like it was usual for normal people. And since Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland didn’t take their jobs too seriously, Gravity Falls’ statistical crime rate was inconceivably low anyway, so his criminal record – parking tickets and violation of a grave, probably to piss off his parents – wasn’t that extensive anyway.

“He hated me the second we met,” Dipper said distractedly. “And he used to go out with Wendy, back when I had a crush on her. So the hatred was mutual.”

Cipher made a strange noise.

“In my defense, I was twelve years old, and she was as cool then as she is now. She’s more like a big sister to me now though.”

“Sure,” Cipher murmured.

Dipper frowned and looked at his partner sitting on the bed again, while he himself had resumed his former position perched by his desk. Cipher had gathered his hair into a messy bun that sat on the top of his head like a bird’s nest. Usually he wore it in a tight, neat knot at the nape of his neck. That he’d worn it open the whole day had been surprising enough. But a messy bun? Bill Cipher was the anti-messy bun, and Dipper had never seen him without looking meticulously groomed down to his toenails. Not that he’d ever seen the guy’s toenails.

“Everything okay?” Dipper asked.

“Of course. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Now you sound combative, which means _you’re_ trying to hide something.”

Cipher looked up and scowled.

“Using your observation skills on me now?”

“Look, if this is about the kiss – you started it. I didn’t do anything.”

“Didn’t do anything.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. Right. You fucking liar.”

Dipper flinched.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, playing the poor, pure white lamb and all, making me believe … _Manipulating_ me.” He sneered and crossed his arms. “Don’t get me wrong, I admire your finesse. But I don’t fucking like being played like that. I thought … But apparently not.”

“The fuck you talking about?”

“Just concentrate on the task at hand. Pacifica offered to go shopping with me tomorrow, so I’ll squeeze her for information. You look at that McGucket person. Find out what this Society of the Blind Eye is up to currently. After lunch I’m checking out Gideon Gleeful, and you reunite with Robbie. If we still have time, you could check the diner and get in touch with the gossip mill. I’ll go talk to this Sheriff of yours. See what they have on missing persons, cultism and murders in the last few years.”

So this is how it was going to be, then. Dipper ground his teeth. He’d thought Cipher was finally showing his true self – someone more carefree, someone he could bond with – but apparently ‘snappy asshole’ Cipher was the default state. And right now he didn’t want to do this particular tightrope walk.

“Yes, sir,” Dipper growled, shut his file and walked out of the room without looking back.

Why had he ever agreed to this? As soon as they would get back to Portland he was going to ask for a transfer – Cipher was a disastrous mentor. He could go to the east coast, maybe. Or back to California. His parents would be happy to have him back. Anywhere sounded good right now, as long as it didn’t have Bill Cipher.

Belatedly he realized the others were expecting him to stay upstairs, having steamy sex with his partner. For once the thought didn’t make him embarrassed.

When his friends asked him what was wrong, he dismissed it and said that Cipher was tired from driving. Mabel shot him a concerned look, having picked up on his anger, but he shook his head, and she let it be.

They watched trash TV, drank beer and ate cheap pre-Summerween sweets until they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore. It became time for Wendy, Soos and Pacifica to go home, and for the Pines family to go to bed, so they said their goodbyes and goodnights.

“Is Bill really okay?” Mabel asked after they’d brushed their teeth.

“Yeah. Just, uh, work stuff,” he lied and put his hand on the door, behind which his partner was. There was light pouring out through the gaps between door and door frame.

“I like him,” Mabel whispered, something cautious and soft in her voice. She watched Dipper with big eyes and a small frown.

“That’s … good?”

“And I can see that he really likes you.”

“That would be ideal, yeah.”

“No, I mean it.” She gave him a look. “I know you guys had some sort of lovers’ spat, but whatever it was to make you angry and hurt, I’m sure it’s hurting him too. Just … talk, okay? It’s probably something stupid anyway.”

“It’s not what you think. And anyways … He’s not always very reasonable, you see.”

“For a rational person you’re not very reasonable either. I know this sounds super cheesy, but …For once it might be best to let your feelings guide you.”

“That does sound incredibly cheesy,” Dipper said dryly.

Mabel frowned and looked at the door behind Dipper as if she could see Cipher through it.

“I think you forget that he’s more than just a tough guy. That he’s actually insecure. You work with him and see him with a gun strapped to his hip, clad in a suit and tie. Just think about it – do you think he’s always like that?”

Dipper opened his mouth to say ‘Yes, of course’. But then he thought about messy buns and loose linen shirts. He thought about cucumber and cheese sandwiches, and classical music playing on the radio.

Mabel just smiled and went back downstairs, leaving him to stare at a door with a mystery behind it.

▲▼▲


	2. Chapter 2

▲▼▲

By the time he’d mustered the courage to actually open the door the room was dark. The triangular window allowed weak moonlight to filter through, and it was just enough to allow Dipper to find his way to the bed. The lump curled under the covers of the bed’s left side didn’t move when he slipped under the covers too, and all he could hear was faint breathing. There was no way to tell whether Cipher was actually asleep or was only pretending.

For once the breath of another being sleeping in the same room as him wasn’t comforting like it had been when he and Mabel still shared a room. He felt self-conscious about shuffling and disturbing the other person lying beside him, so he itched to shuffle even more. In the end he gave up and sat upright, rubbing his eyes glumly. Perhaps it would be best to sleep on the couch downstairs. But no, that would just raise more questions he wasn’t keen on answering.

In the end he must have fallen asleep anyway, because the next time he opened his eyes, there was sunlight dappling the room. The other side of the bed was empty and cold, and he stared at the neatly fluffed pillow for a few moments.

He shuffled to his wardrobe, got out of his jammies and changed his underwear. Just as he was about to put on his binder there were loud steps approaching the door, like someone was wearing heels.

“Pacifica?” he called. “You can tell Mabel I’m awake, I’ll be just a minute.”

But then the door opened, and it wasn’t Pacifica. Dipper’s eyes widened.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Cipher drawled, strode across the room without looking at him, long legs _long_ and made even longer by a pair of killer high heels. It made his calves look really nice and shapely, further accentuated by white three quarter pants.

“Urgh,” Dipper said eloquently, watching the sway of Cipher’s straightened, gleaming black hair cascading over his back.

“I’ll be back before lunch. Until then, remember to ask McGucket about the Society’s most recent activity.” Cipher picked up a backpack he must have stuffed under the bed last night. His – her? No, his – gaze was focused and sharp when he eyed Dipper over the rim of his sunglasses. “You might want to put on some pants and a shirt first though.”

Dipper crossed his arms in front of his chest, flushing. Never mind his underwear, Cipher had seen him _without his_ _binder_.

“Go away,” he choked out and grabbed the nearest item of clothing – a pair of ugly camouflage cargo pants with mud stains on them – to cover himself. Cipher’s eyes glinted strangely when he pursed his lips and stomped past Dipper and out of the room.

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and carefully put on shorts, his binder and a loose shirt. Then he haphazardly brushed his hair and sat on the rim of the bathtub until his hands stopped shaking so he could shave what little stubble he had. By the time he got into the kitchen, everyone already had breakfast, the gift shop was open and his hands were still shaking.

“Good morning!” Mabel called cheerfully and slid a cup of coffee in front of him. He silently refused it, trying to ignore the burning two-colored gaze pinned to his back. There was a scoff, and the sound of heeled feet on wooden floor until the front door opened and closed again with a bang.

“You guys still fighting?” Mabel asked, eyeing his plate, where a bland toast carved out a miserable existence.

“Something like that,” Dipper sighed.

“This isn’t about him being a girl though, right? You wouldn’t be uncomfortable about that.”

“No. I mean … It’s true, I’ve never seen him as … this side of him.” He contemplated the Mounty Man syrup bottle in front of him. “But that’s not the problem.”

“So what is it? You know you can always talk to me.”

“I’m afraid this isn’t something I can tell you. Though there is actually more than one problem.”

“Be as vague as you like, and I will unashamedly draw my own probably very false conclusions,” Mabel said and flopped into the chair opposite of him.

“Okay, just … Before? Like, half an hour ago? He saw me … without my binder on,” he whispered before taking a cautious bite of toast.

Mabel blinked.

“Are you telling me you’ve been wearing your binder the whole time, even during sex?”

Dipper groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“Bro-bro, you should be able to trust him with this.”

“That’s part of that other problem, the one I can’t tell you about,” he whined and met Mabel’s serious gaze. The expression on her face was one he knew very well – it was a face that emerged when she shed her silliness and became her own brand of perceptive genius.

“You think you don’t deserve him,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Well, he _is_ way out of my league,” Dipper agreed. “Like … He’s higher ranking. More experienced, in every meaning of the word. Drop-dead gorgeous. Successful. Badass as fuck. Rich, I think. Oh, and if he’s not his usual asshole self, he can be as popular as they come.”

“But he sees something in you, and he chose you. It doesn’t matter why.”

“It’s a joke. It has to be. This is just a hoax, and he’s messing with my head. Maybe this is his way of, I don’t know, testing my resolve. Maybe he’s trying to get me kicked out of the FBI so he can get back to working solo. Maybe I got too close to figuring out he’s actually still a criminal mastermind, and he’s trying to ruin me now. How would I know, I feel like I barely know him!”

Mabel sighed and put a hand on his elbow. Dipper looked at her fingers – small, but strong and callused by her experimental art – and came to a decision.

“I can talk to McGucket later. There’s something I need to research first,” he murmured and kissed his sister’s cheek.

Back in the attic room he unpacked his laptop, started it up and opened the internet browser. For a few seconds he let his fingers hover over the keys, before typing in ‘Cipher Wheel’. The first entry was an online newspaper article, and when he clicked on it, the headline read: ‘Eighteen-year-old Behind Evil Master Plan to Topple World Economy’. A photo, probably a mugshot, showed the grim, slightly crazed expression of a young Bill Cipher. The lighting made his eyes look incredibly mismatched, and pronounced the hollow shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. He looked too old for his age. The description said: ‘Constantin Cipher’s heir: 18 years old, and already a murderer and the genius behind the crime of the century.’

Dipper licked his dry lips and braced himself for the article.

            ‘ _Young men his age usually graduate high-school, have girlfriends or play in rock bands with their friends. But then, most young men do not have Constantin Cipher as their father. Cipher first made his name as a drug lord with ties to numerous South American cartels. In 1999 he was accused of the murder of his wife and mother to William Cipher, who, at the time, was five years old. This crime, while never proven in the court of law, has clearly shaped the boy’s life. In 2009, Constantin Cipher was killed in cold blood by his fourteen-year-old son. Since the teenager could not be sentenced to prison, he was admitted to an institution that specialized in treating troubled minds such as his. Mere weeks after this he escaped and disappeared – until now._

_Police investigations show that William Cipher had claimed his birthright as the heir of Constantin Cipher and lead the cartel for four years from the shadows. Three months ago, on August 21, the media received notes with what was dubbed as the “Cipher Wheel’ (Fig. 2). A countdown was announced, before the first institution on the Cipher Wheel was to be robbed, exposed and destroyed. International agencies were hard-pressed to counter these attacks, and several corporations fell victim to Cipher and his widespread net of co-conspirators. On October 6, the Cipher Wheel leaked sensitive information of the US government, causing worldwide panic, conflicts, the deaths of several undercover agents and public uproar._

_Finally, on November 2, William Cipher was apprehended thanks to an anonymous tip in a joint operation of the FBI and CIA. He confessed to all charges brought against him, even his father’s murder four years ago. None of his co-conspirators have been apprehended yet, though this only seems to be a matter of time._

_We are breathlessly awaiting his trial now, and continue to cope with the aftermath of Cipher’s acts of terrorism, though it will certainly take months until we get the satisfaction of seeing this madman behind bars.’_

Dipper frowned, not knowing what to think. He hadn’t paid much attention to the scandal, only having been a teenager himself back in 2013 and 2014, so he didn’t know what happened after that. It sounded like Cipher had faced trial – but surely they didn’t clear him of all charges? Especially if he confessed to murder. But then how did he become an FBI asset?

He went back to the search index and clicked on a video next. The title was: ‘Cipher Trials Adjourned – The Defense Pleads Insanity’, and it had been posted in February 2014. He let the video buffer and swallowed a few times. His tongue felt too dry, sticking to the roof of his mouth.

The video showed two police officers escorting a cuffed but wildly grinning Cipher through a courthouse. The reporters were shouting questions, and flashlights flickered like lightning. An off-commentary calmly summarized Cipher’s life and crimes, before stating that it seemed clear that “a man capable of such chaos could truly only be called insane”. Seemingly for no reason at all Cipher started to roar with laughter and resisted the officers trying to drag him outside. He grinned into the cameras, teeth snapping shut like a bear trap. His eyes were flashing madly and he started singing, his bright voice echoing hauntingly off the high, marble ceiling:

> “ _You better keep that demon outside of your heart, you better keep that demon outside._  
>  _You oughta keep your women inside of your home, you oughta keep your women inside._  
>  _You better lock up all your doors and start to hide, you better lock up all your doors.  
>  __He’ll take you like he took me in the night, too scared to fight, take you like he took me in the night.  
>  __You got to go, he’s coming for you, please let- …!_ ”

One of the police officers had started hitting him with a baton, and he was laughing again. The video ended with the image of his blood-stained teeth, bared in a snarling mockery of a smile. Dipper closed his laptop with a loud snap and fought the nausea roiling in his stomach.

He’d thought finding out more about his partner would give him some clarity – help him understand him. But he felt more confused and at a loss than ever. Who was Bill Cipher? Was he William Cipher, madman and criminal mastermind? Was he Special Agent Bill Cipher, asshole deluxe, but a brilliant investigator? Or was he Cipher, Dipper’s partner, whom his sister liked and who didn’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion?

Maybe he was all of them. Maybe he was neither of them. Maybe Dipper couldn’t solve this case.

▲▼▲

Some things never change, but luckily some do. Dipper was glad that Fiddleford McGucket didn’t have to live on the junkyard anymore and had tentatively reunited with his son – he was living by Lake Gravity Falls nowadays and kept a fond eye on the Gobblewonker living there. Upturned pots had made way to creaking chairs, and Dipper marveled at the wonders a good shave and a pair of glasses could do to a man.

“The Society of the Blind Eye,” McGucket mused, rattling with a teapot and cups.

“I was just curious,” Dipper said to fill the following silence. “I mean, you have regained your memories – what if Bud Gleeful, Toby Determined and all the others regained theirs too? It’s possible, right? And … If that was the case, we wouldn’t know the Society’s purpose anymore. It could have changed.”

McGucket handed him a cup of chamomile tea and looked at him with eyes distorted by the thick glass of his spectacles.

“I heard you were an FBI agent now.”

“Yes?” Dipper carefully watched the older man sitting down in a loveseat opposite of him.

“I also saw you arrive here yesterday with someone else.” McGucket took a sip of his tea and cocked his head. “I know who he is, and what he is capable of.”

Dipper froze.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Finish your tea and go, Dipper. Tell Mr. Cipher we are … not interested in dealing with people like him.”

“We? People like- …?”

“Young man, when you came here at the age of twelve, young and bright and full of wonder, you saw Gravity Falls’ other side. This town, this Janus-faced place … You saw it, in its glorious, frightening and mind-boggling entirety. I hope, for your sake, that you have not lost your sight.”

“McGucket, I- …”

“I’d suggest you stop putting your nose in places they shouldn’t be. But I know you, Dipper. So I’m telling you to look for the shadows your bright, brilliant friend will undoubtedly cast. Stay alert. And keep this,” he tapped his hip, mirroring the place where Dipper felt the comforting weight of his gun, “close at hand.”

“I don’t understand.”

McGucket frowned and shook his head.

“That is unfortunate. But whatever will happen, I assure you we … I am on your side, Dipper. You are going to need people you can trust. And I’m afraid Mr. Cipher cannot be trusted – he should not trust himself, even. He will know what I mean. People like him attract trouble.”

“Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about … But my partner and I are here to investigate- …”

“Yes. The Order’s enemies are the Society’s enemies, and you came here because of their nefarious activities. I am afraid to tell you though that it is yet to be determined who actually hunts, and who is the hunted.”

“The … the Order? Who is that, and what does that have to do with...? How do you…?”

“You should go. I believe you need to talk to your partner.”

Dipper mutely set down his cup and left the house. McGucket was right. They needed to talk.

▲▼▲

Dipper helped Mabel prepare a light lunch – an assortment of salads, fruit and home-baked bread. He appreciated the lively chattering of his sister, letting it shower over him and cocooning him in a bubble of safety and comfort. Stan came and filched a few slices of melon with ham before they could shoo him away. But then the door opened, and Pacifica rushed in, laden with bags and cartons. Behind her, more subdued and slower, Bill followed, carrying just one large bag.

“You were successful then?” Mabel asked and kissed Pacifica’s cheek.

“Very,” the blonde sighed exhaustedly. “Bill is an amazing wing-girl.”

“You got something too?”

“I needed something for the ball,” Bill said softly and clutched his bag a bit tighter to his side.

“Cool!”

Dipper watched Cipher from across the kitchen and cleaned his hands while trying to gauge the other’s mood. He seemed calm enough, and his hand did not itch for his gun either. It seemed safe to approach.

“Bill,” he said, and noted the slight tensing of his shoulders. Cipher knew very well Dipper had never called him by his first name before. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” Cipher smiled, hiding the sharp edges of his mouth by drinking a sip of water.

“Let’s go into the break room.”

On their way there Dipper counted the steady thump of Cipher’s heels on the hardwood floor, and he breathed deeply until his heartbeat matched the hollow sound.

“Okay,” he sighed and closed the door behind them. Cipher stood in the middle of the room, his back to Dipper, and the taut lines of his back starkly contrasted the casual tilt of his hips.

“What did McGucket tell you?” he asked and turned on one heel.

Dipper crossed his arms.

“He knows who you are, apparently.”

Cipher only raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. Then he asked: “Did he have … a message for me?”

“Yes, actually. How did you- …? Never mind.”

“Just tell me.”

“Alright. He said he wouldn’t do business with you, sort of. And he told me not to trust you – that you shouldn’t trust yourself, in fact, and that you would know what he meant when he said that. Oh, and people like you attract trouble.”

“Interesting. Well, I- …”

But before Cipher could tell him about his shopping tour aka subterfuge interrogation with Pacifica, Dipper cut him off.

“I didn’t ask you to come here and speak to you in private because of our case, Cipher.”

The other eyebrow joined the first in an elegant arch.

“Is that so? I don’t think I have to listen to you ly- …“

“Indulge me,” Dipper snapped, scowling. “Tell me what the fuck I did wrong, because I have no idea.”

Cipher huffed disbelievingly and rolled his eyes.

“Like fuck you do.”

“Just tell me. Please.”

Dipper could see his jaw work, and it seemed like the older agent tried very hard not to look at Dipper. His fists clenched at his sides, and the stiffness of his back had taken over his whole body.

“You manipulated me, Dipper. I don’t like that.”

He had to bite his tongue until he could taste blood in order not to scream ‘ _what the fuck?’_.

“Go on,” he growled instead, but Cipher shook his head.

“This would be far easier if you had read my file – but maybe you have, and you just said you didn’t to lull me into a sense of security,” Cipher sneered and started to pace.

“It can’t go on like this, for fuck’s sake, you won’t even listen to me. It affects our casework, and you’re effectively ruining my time with my family. But you wouldn’t know, would you, because you never had a fucking family. What family would want a murderer like you anyway!” Dipper shouted, realizing with horror what he was saying just as he said it. Then he saw the rage flash in Cipher’s eyes, and before he could think ‘ _oh shit’_ he was being thrown into the wall with more force than Cipher’s narrow frame should possess.

“You have no idea,” he roared and forced his left forearm up and against Dipper’s throat until he couldn’t breathe. “You have no idea what I am capable of!”

Choking and scrambling he tried to force his limbs to remember his training, to ram his knee into Cipher’s groin or to land a punch to his kidneys or to scratch his eyes or to break his grip. But Cipher had him crowded, and there were spots dancing across his vision, and blackness was creeping up on him, while all he could see was Cipher’s golden eye wide with fury.

Then he gasped and doubled over, gagging and coughing.

“That felt far too good,” he could hear Cipher murmur, and he watched his trembling fingers clench out of the corner of his eye.

 _Adrenaline_ , his mind provided. _Fight or flight. He chose fight._

“I have been betrayed before,” Cipher said, almost with an air of boredom. “McGucket was right. Trouble will always find me. This time his name is Dipper.”

“I didn’t manipulate you, Cipher. You’re a good judge of character, aren’t you? You know I’m no liar.” He straightened, painfully, until he could meet Cipher’s unreadable gaze. “I understand that you don’t like being manipulated. No one would, really. But I didn’t do anything. Or, if I offended you … I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“ _I didn’t mean to_ ,” Cipher said, like he was quoting someone. “Like that excuses anything. You almost made me believe you were perfect. But it’s not the truth.”

“It never is. Does anyone know anybody? Not truly, I think. Truth doesn’t exist.”

“How nihilistic.” A sad smile appeared on Cipher’s lips. “I always admired Nihilists.”

“If you think I was planning on seducing you or whatever …” Dipper involuntarily chuckled at the thought. “Geez, Cipher, you’re way out of my league. If you’d believe me anything, believe me I’ve never been in a relationship. I couldn’t seduce a pumpkin.”

“No one can seduce a pumpkin,” Cipher said, a bit softer.

“But you see my point.”

“So the FBI didn’t assign you to me in order to gain my trust, have me spill all my secrets, and then dump me so they could get rid of me once and for all. Put down the bulldog when it’s sleeping.”

Dipper’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? No. No, no, no. You’re way off track here, Cipher.”

“They don’t like relying on me, and they don’t trust the muzzle they put on me, you see, and you’re not the first they sent to lure me into a trap so they could pretend they didn’t need my skills, my intel, my _name_. You see, it doesn’t look good if you have one of the most wanted criminals in at least a dozen countries on your payroll.”

“I’m not a spy.”

Cipher looked at him for a few more moments before nodding.

“Alright. My mistake.”

“Glad we cleared that up.” Dipper coughed again.

“Let’s get back to the kitchen. I’ll brew you a tea for that sore throat.”

Dipper gratefully followed Cipher back the way they came, though he warily watched his partner’s movements. He was pretty sure he’d never forget how Cipher moved, like a snake that had coiled for an attack. The unrelenting force with which he’d choked him. A shiver shook him at those thoughts, and he was rather glad that he’d convinced him of his innocence – no one should want to find themselves on the bad side of this man.

“You do realize they’ll think you just gave me a blowjob, right?”

Dipper smiled feebly.

“Let them think.”

For he knew the truth about Bill Cipher now. If there was a heart beating in his chest, it wasn’t sympathetic to people. And if he genuinely liked Dipper, it wasn’t going to protect him from Cipher.

▲▼▲

From what evidence they’d gathered, it became clear that coincidentally the LumberBall could very well be the next instance of a cult kidnapping. All their prime suspects were attending, and a crowd of part drunk, part otherwise occupied people made for a very easy pool from which to choose the next victim. They called in their suspicions with their superiors in Portland and were made to cooperate with the local police and the Northwest family’s security.

They worked like a well-oiled machine ever since Cipher’s outburst. Dipper had glimpsed behind the veils and masks and pretend-glamor he wore all the time, and perhaps he should be shocked by the dark, wild thing of chaos he’d seen. He just found it fascinating, and more than a little bit arousing, so sue him. There was just something about a man without restraint that Dipper could appreciate, because no restraints and no boundaries also meant that there were no prejudices, no labels, no distinctions, no complications. It was all so simple and true, and Dipper could see that Cipher was a liar who could tell you the truth without letting you see it.

No boundaries. No truth, no right or wrong, no lies. So simple. It was beautiful. And dangerous enough that he didn’t know what to do with it.

They spent the day of the LumberBall preparing safety measures with the security service personnel the Northwest family had hired especially on their advice. They weren’t exactly in on the details of their case, but they would let Cipher and Dipper investigate freely at the ball, and assist, should they need help.

In order to conceal their true reason for being there, Dipper had coaxed Mabel, Candy and Grenda into accompanying them to Northwest Manor to ‘help’ with preparations. In truth, they chilled it at the private pool with Pacifica.

“Where are you two sneaking off to all the time?” Mabel complained after Dipper and Cipher returned the fourth time from an inspection. She eyed Dipper’s sweat-stained shirt with concern, but complimented Cipher’s look. Dipper silently had to agree with his twin, the turquoise gossamer summer dress he was wearing looked gorgeous on him.

“Thank you, though I’d rather take it off and have a swim right now,” Cipher sighed and shamelessly dropped the dress, revealing the swimsuit he wore underneath. Dipper gulped and busied himself with pouring iced lemonade for himself, Candy and Grenda, who signaled him with their empty glasses.

A loud splash, and he heard Mabel and Pacifica shriek.

“Bill!”

Dipper watched as Cipher dove elegantly and surfaced near where he stood, placing his arms coquettishly on the rim. He grinned and shook his hair. Pacifica watched the drops of water pearl off his locks with envy, despondently touching her own, now wet hair.

“Sorry,” he purred, not sounding sorry at all. Then he looked at Dipper. “You coming too?”

He froze, stunned into immobility. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Mabel frantically paddling, trying to gain Cipher’s attention. For a second he wondered whether Cipher was doing this on purpose. Nothing would surprise Dipper anymore.

“Of course not, you idiot,” he hissed, not really taking care whether the others could hear or not. He couldn’t help the disappointment and the fear. Furious, he pushed his trembling hands into the pockets of his shorts to keep them from checking the fit of his binder.

“Why?”

“You know why!”

“No, I don’t.”

“God, are you being stupid on purpose?”

“Dipper!”

“What?”

He froze again, realizing that he’d been shouting on the top of his lungs. Mabel and Pacifica were staring at him from the water, and he could hear Candy and Grenda whispering behind him. Cipher looked just as stunned as he felt. Then he held out a hand.

“Come here.”

“Are you going to drown me?” he growled, but stepped close enough for Cipher to wind cool, wet fingers around one of his ankles. The fingers tugged at his feet and the seams of his shorts until he sat down at the edge of the pool. It nearly cost him everything to hide the relief at having the cool water lap at his toes.

“There, satisfied?”

“No,” Cipher growled, put his hands on Dipper’s knees and heaved himself out of the pool. Water dripped from his body and onto Dipper, soaking his clothing. Dipper concentrated on this, rather than acknowledging Cipher’s eyes and mouth so close to his.

“Look at me.”

Just as he wanted to yield to the tension begging him to meet Cipher’s burning gaze, a cool arm wound itself around his neck, and then there was a jolt, and suddenly he was in the water. The cold engulfing him nearly knocked his breath out, but then another yank around his waist brought him to the surface.

“What do you think,” came a whisper by his ear, “isn’t this much better?”

“Fuck,” Dipper coughed and flailed until his hands found the edge of the pool. Over his shoulder he watched Cipher float in the water, submerged fully but for his nose and eyes. He looked like a siren, tempting him to drown. Distantly he registered laughter, and he knew Mabel and Pacifica were still in the pool with them. But looking into those black and golden eyes it just didn’t matter.

“I hate you,” he rasped, wiping water out of his eyes, but even to his own ears he sounded weak and pathetic. He kept his eyes closed when soft hands gripped his hips and waist.

“I hate you too.”

Cipher sounded thoughtful, almost wistful. Resigned. His hands left Dipper’s body, and he immediately felt lighter. Without looking back he climbed out of the pool and slumped on a lawn chair to dry.

“Aw, bro-bro!” Mabel called. “Already done?”

“I don’t want to swim,” he replied and watched her and Pacifica float on their blow-up mattresses. Cipher was circling them with long, measured strokes, sometimes diving underneath – like a shark. He looked away and sipped his lemonade, ignoring the way his hands were still trembling.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Huh?” He turned and looked at Grenda perching on the seat next to him. She was looking shrewdly from him to Cipher and back. “Oh. More like trouble in hell.”

“You’re angry with your boyfriend, and he’s antagonizing you to get your attention, which is making you even angrier.”

“Wow.” Dipper slurped the last of his drink and regarded Grenda thoughtfully.

“I’m somewhat of an expert in long-term relationships,” she said, raising her left hand, where her betrothal ring shone, “so let me tell you this: it’s painfully obvious that you both don’t know how to handle your feelings. You’ve probably never had anyone want you that way before, and he’s probably never wanted anyone that way before either.”

“It’s not like that,” Dipper tried to protest weakly, but Grenda gave him a stern glare.

“Dipper, you’re a great guy, but that’s the problem. You’re both guys who very likely have never been in a relationship period, or at least have never been in a long-term relationship with another guy.” She shrugged. “It’s okay not knowing what to do at times. You’re both new at this, and that’s cool as long as you acknowledge that. Cut him some slack, but call him out on his bullshit, alright?”

“That’s … actually pretty wise. Thank you, Grenda,” he said, surprised, but grateful. Her advice was good, or it would have been, if his relationship with Cipher were what they thought it was.

She nodded and went to sit with Candy again. As if on cue, Cipher climbed out of the pool and padded towards Dipper with an unreadable expression on his face. He poured himself some lemonade and asked Dipper whether he wanted some too with a raised eyebrow.

“No, thanks.”

Cipher sat down in the chair where Grenda had been before and sipped on his lemonade, not taking his eyes off Dipper.

“So,” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re as prepared as we can be for tonight.”

Dipper grunted in response, unsure what was expected of him.

“We should clarify this,” Cipher waved a hand indicating the space between them, “this thing we have. It might affect our partnership.”

“Oh, really? Let’s see: _you nearly killed me_.” Dipper glared at Cipher.

“I want you,” the older agent said, as if he hadn’t heard Dipper. “I want you in my bed, writhing in pleasure. I want you on my cock, crying out my name. That isn’t surprising. But what I didn’t expect was that I’d want to let you have your way with me. That I’d want you to control me.”

Dipper gulped and flushed.

“No one controls me, Dipper. I hate you for making me want to yield.” Cipher took another sip and smiled twistedly. “I hate to admire you, but I can’t stop.”

“You don’t know me,” Dipper blurted out, surprised at the words tumbling out, but knowing they were right. “I don’t know you either. Who are you, really? Do you even know yourself? I can’t trust you if I don’t know you, and you shouldn’t trust either of us. You don’t have any control, and while that might be helpful in some contexts, I’d like to know you, so you can be predictable to me, so I can trust you and anticipate you. I thought I could anticipate you in Portland, when we were training, but I think that was just an act on your part. I knew your act, but you’ve changed your act since then, and really, it’s like you speak a different language.”

“You’re wrong. I do know you.”

“Really? Then how could you believe I was spying on you, betraying you?” Dipper wanted to say _I’d never do that_ , but the words got caught in his throat. Judging by the look Cipher gave him then he knew what had gone unsaid.

“You wouldn’t have betrayed your partner, no, but I thought you knew I was more than that. You would betray me now, wouldn’t you?”

He wanted to say _no_ , but couldn’t, and Cipher knew. Silence was an answer too.

“You could betray me,” he said slowly, thoughtfully, “and I’d admire you all the more for it. And though I know you … I don’t know what you’ll do with that knowledge.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I should have killed you.”

Dipper shuddered and fought the urge to run.

“Why didn’t you?”

“It’s not what I want. Killing you would be conquering you, but I want _you_ to conquer _me_. Or at least come stand on top of the mountain by my side. It’s more interesting, isn’t it?”

“You’re insane,” Dipper whispered and flinched, when Cipher started to laugh. For a second he saw a younger Bill Cipher, mockingly laughing at the cameras, baring his bloodied teeth and snapping them like traps.

“So you know me after all!” he laughed.

“Yes. I know there is something dark in you, and it’s wrong, but it doesn’t bother you anymore. You just … go with it. Maybe you hide it, but you don’t try to cure it.”

Cipher regarded him over the rim of his glass and then smiled slowly. His teeth looked too bright, too sharp to be human.

“What’s your diagnosis, Dr. Pines? Am I a murderous psychopath? A victim, suffering from PTSD? A narcissist? Come one, I’ve heard it all. If you think you’ve figured me out, please share with the class. McGucket was right about something alright: I don’t think I know myself that well anymore.” He drained his glass and gingerly set it down on the floor. “The last ten years I hid as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, trying so desperately to be a true sheep. You’ve ripped my sheepskin from me, Dipper, and I’m not sure either of us know what came out from underneath. A wolf, still? Worse?”

“I don’t know.”

“I used to think my father was a monster who deserved to die,” Cipher said slowly, rearranging his long limbs in the chair to look like he was sunbathing.

“You don’t think that anymore?”

“Oh, I don’t regret killing him. He was a criminal. He killed my mother. He abused me. But sometimes I wonder if … by killing him I condemned myself to being a monster too. And that someone should put me down for being an abomination.”

Dipper thought for a moment, closing his eyes against the beautiful lines of Cipher’s body and the glare of the sun. He thought about all the things he’d said and slowly fit them together.

“You’ve been waiting this whole time,” he said slowly, still thinking and not opening his eyes. Cipher remained silent, patiently waiting for him to finish. “You thought you were biding your time. That a bigger shark would come and eat you. That someone would recognize you as a wolf among sheep. You thought you were finished when the FBI caught you, but then … they used you, integrated you into their ranks, treated you as one of their own. And now you’re still waiting for someone to challenge you, maybe conquer you. Because you think you’re different, and you know you deserve to be punished for that … wrongness in you.”

Cipher made a pleased little noise.

“And you think I’m the one to do it,” Dipper concluded slowly, opening his eyes to Cipher’s awed smile.

“Yes, I do. You have proven that you can control me in ways no one else ever could. And you’re something I’m not – which is ‘a good person’.”

“But what do you want me to do?”

“Yeah, Bill, what do you want Dipper to do?” came Mabel’s voice, and Dipper looked at her dripping wet form standing between them and the pool. She had her hands on her hips and regarded them with a big grin.

“Nothing I could repeat to your delicate, young ears, dear,” Cipher purred lewdly, and Mabel laughed.

“I’ll have you know that I’m older than Dipper.”

“By five minutes only,” Dipper protested.

“Five minutes more or less, I’m still older,” Mabel said and stuck out her tongue. “Anyway, I’m here to snatch Bill for our girls’ makeover. No boys allowed.”

“What? But it’s three in the afternoon, what could possibly take so long?”

Cipher laughed and stretched out his arm to pat Dipper’s knee.

“You know nothing, Dipper Pines.”

He frowned at the hand still on his leg.

“Was that a Game of Thrones reference, Cipher?”

The older agent just laughed and went to pick up his discarded summer dress. Mabel went to fetch Candy and Grenda on the other side of the pool, and Pacifica was talking to her butler.

“See you at six, Dip-Dip!” Mabel called and waved. “We’ll be in Pacifica’s room in case of emergency.”

“Alright,” Dipper murmured and watched them all go. Well, he wasn’t going to complain – now he had the whole pool for himself, and since nobody was watching he could as well go for a swim. He went to fetch his swimming top and trunks, and quickly changed into them, still with hours to go. _He_ didn’t need three hours to shower, shave and put on his suit.

Ah, the luxuries of a man. He wondered why exactly Cipher chose to attend as a woman, but then Cipher was a mystery onto himself. Maybe he liked the almost ritualistic preparations women seemed to undergo before such a social outing, or the dressing up, or maybe he just wanted to listen in on the girls’ conversation.

Half an hour before he was supposed to meet with the girls he went upstairs to his guest bedroom, past Pacifica’s rooms. It was suspiciously quiet.

He had a quick shower and shaved before calmly putting on the slacks, button-up shirt, bowtie and suit jacket. He’d given his shoes a shine in Portland, so he deemed himself ready after he’d slicked his unruly hair into a nice-enough swoop that hid his birthmark. A glance at his watch told him he was five minutes early, but it wasn’t too early to check on the ladies. He walked down the corridor and stopped in front of Pacifica’s door, knocking sharply.

“Status report?” he asked jokingly, and he grinned when an excited looking Mabel opened the door a crack wide.

“Hey, bro-bro! Wow, good job.” She raked an appreciative gaze over his form and nodded her sisterly consent. “Go on ahead, we’ll be just a minute. Wait at the foot of the stairs, okay?”

“Alright.”

Downstairs a butler offered him a glass of sparkling wine, which he held a bit awkwardly as he waited for the others. Candy and Grenda appeared first, and they joined him in awkwardly sipping on their flutes, and Candy continuously checked her makeup in a pocket mirror.

Pacifica and Mabel came next, wearing matching outfits – Pacifica’s was white with pink accents, and Mabel’s was pink with white accents. They gave Dipper meaningful glances, and when he asked them where Cipher was, they just grinned at each other.

“You’re onto something,” he murmured suspiciously and eyed his twin with narrowed eyes, but then Candy and Grenda, who had been heatedly discussing something, fell suddenly silent. He turned to see what it was that caught their eye, thinking it was some lanky aristocrat, and his jaw dropped.

Cipher was slowly floating down the stairs, one hand gliding along the bannnister. Dipper followed the long trail of his straightened hair that fell over his left shoulder, and the golden silk-dress’ ripples along Cipher’s lithe body. It complimented his narrow frame and was slit to reveal the entire length of his left leg, up until the thigh holster and the gun strapped to it.

“You clean up nice,” Cipher teased and grinned, revealing blindingly white teeth enclosed by sinfully red lips. Dipper opened his mouth to reply something smart, but at that moment he felt like his brain just died. Then, Cipher was standing in front of him, only taller than him due to his high heeled feet – and were those shoes golden too? Everything was gold – his earrings, his fingernails, the glitter on his eyelids, and _oh_ what that did to his _eyes_ …

“Dipper, say something,” Mabel hissed behind him, and he stammered something about how good Cipher looked, or at least he thought that was what he said.

“Thank you,” Cipher purred and plucked the wineglass from Dipper’s lax fingers and sipped on it, revealing his long throat encircled by a gold velvet choker.

Inconspicuously, he hoped, Dipper wiped his sweaty fingers on his slacks. God, he wanted to touch that velvet.

“Okay, let’s go,” Pacifica called and led them through a double-winged door. Immediately, dance music flooded around them, flickering lights blinded them, but all Dipper felt was Cipher’s gentle hand in the crook of his elbow and the swirl of his dress skirt against his own leg.

“Eyes up front, champ,” the older agent murmured, and Dipper blushed. Had he been staring?

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind you looking at me like that, but we’re here for a reason.”

Oh. Right. The case.

He flinched at the flashes of cameras going off, capturing Pacifica’s entrance to her family’s annual ball in honor of the party that had been haunted that first year Dipper and Mabel came to Gravity Falls. Every year since then the Northwest family opened their gates to the people of the town, as their ancestors had promised.

At least Dipper wasn’t alone in his discomfort, and he could hurry after Candy and Grenda, who rather observed and pointed at all the fancy or funny people in attendance from the sidelines. Cipher, unsurprisingly, stayed with Mabel and Pacifica in the fray, a golden shadow to the white and pink ladies of the evening. Dipper saw a few men trying to proposition Cipher, and a few times he thought he saw him stomp on their feet with his sharp heel. He winced in sympathy, but tore his gaze away from his partner to let it sweep across the crowd.

Their main suspects were Gideon Gleeful, Toby Determined, Fiddleford McGucket, Sheriff Blubs, Deputy Durland, Farmer Sprott and Preston Northwest. Most of them were suspects due to their former connections to the Society of the Blind Eye, or their involvement in government conspiracies. But Dipper had an especially bad feeling about Gideon, and Mr. Northwest. And he knew for a fact that both of them were attending tonight.

Dipper inched through the crowd, seemingly towards the bar, but his eyes continuously searched the faces around him. On the dancefloor he saw Cipher, golden dress billowing elegantly around his fluid form. His dance partner’s hands were too close to his hips, and too possessive for Dipper’s taste, but he had no right to think that.

Once he’d reached the bar he asked for some sparkling wine, and while he waited he studied the other men and women leaning half-drunk against the counter.

“Ah, I see you’ve caught yourself a gem, Pines.”

He stiffened and fought the urge to look behind him.

“Gideon,” he replied nonchalantly, accepted the glass the bartender handed him and turned with a smooth smile. “Long time no see.”

“Indeed.”

Gideon had certainly grown since they were twelve and had apparently inherited his father’s tall, bulky figure. His white hair was no longer done up in an obnoxious pompadour, but elegantly styled and slicked back in an almost as disgusting hairdo. The only two things that hadn’t changed were his pig nose and his baby blue suit.

“Well, Pines, you have to let me take your little pet for a spin,” he drawled in his accented voice and unsubtly leered across the room to where Cipher was dancing with a different man than before. This one was even shorter than Dipper, shorter than Cipher without his heeled shoes, and probably two hundred years old. At least he wasn’t openly groping his ass.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dipper said as smoothly as possible, sipping his wine and trying to look bored. “You’ll have to ask Bill.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Gideon’s eyes, and his leer widened into a broad grin.

“Even better. I like to break in pretty boys like him.”

“He’s older than either of us, you know.” _And more dangerous_ , he added in his thoughts.

“That won’t matter when he cries out my name. I bet he screams beautifully.”

Dipper growled and stepped closer to Gideon. The fact that he barely reached the guy’s shoulder didn’t keep him from glaring at him intimidatingly.

“Keep your ugly paws off Bill, Gleeful.”

“Or else what?” Gideon snorted and giggled. “You’re no threat.”

“Suit yourself,” Dipper said and walked away. He drained his glass in one big gulp and waved at Cipher from across the room.

“What is it?” the older agent whispered as soon as he had untangled himself from his current dance partner and made his way through swaying bodies to Dipper.

Dipper laughed loudly and leaned forward to give Cipher a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Sure I’ll dance with you, darling!”

Cipher raised an eyebrow, but went along as Dipper led him onto the dancefloor, moving them to the rhythms of “Smooth” by Santana.

“Gideon Gleeful just talked to me,” Dipper whispered as soon as they were immerged in the mass of dancing couples. “One, he gives me major creeps. Two, he sounded like he wanted to kidnap you.”

Cipher only hummed.

“I didn’t know you could dance Cha-Cha,” he murmured after a few moments, stepping out of Dipper’s arms in an elaborate spin and back again. The wild joy in his eyes was infectious, and Dipper could feel a grin tugging at his lips.

“I had lessons once,” he offered and started to dance in earnest, letting his body move in the same undulating motions that Cipher allowed to roll through his torso and hips. “How did you learn?”

“Ah,” Cipher breathed and stepped away, dancing independently from Dipper. “ _Me recuerdo a mi madre, bailando como así. Era su placer único en una casa de muerte._ ”

Dipper struggled to keep up the rhythm as he watched Cipher almost manically twisting and spinning, as well as trying to translate what he’d said. He didn’t speak Spanish, but he’d recognized the words for ‘mother’, ‘dancing’, ‘house’ and ‘death’. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Cipher said exactly.

The song ended, but they stayed on the dancefloor, somehow unable to leave each other’s vicinity. They circled each other until the start of the next song, some big band Quickstep piece. Cipher grinned and held out his hands.

“Come on, let’s test if you can avoid stepping on my toes to this one,” he challenged.

“Oh, the bet is on!”

▲▼▲

_From the shadows of the room, between the breaths of dancing couples and in the aftershocks of glasses knocking against each other, someone watched a handsome couple twirling across the dancefloor. They patiently tapped their gloved fingers on their thigh, in rhythm with the fast-paced music._

_It had been a very long time since the last time they had seen Bill Cipher. They had both been so very young then. They doubted he would remember them. But it was going to make playing with him all the more fun._

_They nodded to Preston Northwest across the room, and signaled Gideon Gleeful. Time to make their move._

▲▼▲


	3. Chapter 3

▲▼▲

“Hey handsome.”

Dipper yelped when he collided with someone behind him and turned angrily.

“Fuck, Gleeful, watch where you’re going!”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Gideon drawled and sidestepped Dipper to roughly wind an arm around Cipher’s waist. The glint in his black and golden eyes did not bode well.

“Let go of me,” Cipher said calmly and brought up his hands to push against Gideon’s chest, but the taller, much heavier man did not budge.

“Aw, marshmallow, please. One Tango? Just one quick spin. Are you Mexican, _bonita_?”

“ _Bonito_ ,” Cipher corrected him acidly. “Get your grammar right. And no, you uncultured swine, South America does not only consist of Mexico and Brazil.”

“Where you from then?”

“The US.”

“No, I mean- …”

“I know what you mean – which shows that you’re a racist asshole. Now let go of me.”

“Come on, Gideon, let him go,” Dipper shouted and tried to wedge himself between them or to twist Gleeful’s arm around far enough so Cipher could wriggle free. For a second it seemed they were succeeding, but then a sharp pain shot through his nose and he fell back.

“Ow! Fuck.” He doubled over and pressed a hand to his nose, wincing. Shit, there was blood.

He looked up in time to see Cipher grimly winding his arms around Gideon’s neck for leverage before ruthlessly ramming his knee into his groin. Dipper drew an unholy amount of satisfaction from the cross-eyed look on Gleeful’s face as he fell and rolled into a fetal position.

“That’s for breaking my boyfriend’s nose, asshole.”

Dipper laughed, a bit muffled due to his swollen nose, and realized the crowd around them had gone silent. A ring had formed around them, consisting mostly of people whispering and pointing. Finally, Mabel barged through and hugged Dipper.

“Oh my god, broseph, are you alright?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Bill, did he hurt you? Bill?”

Dipper extracted himself from his sister’s vice-like hug to look at Cipher, who shook off Pacifica’s hand and snarled. Suddenly, he drew his gun and pointed it at Dipper and Mabel.

“Down!” he shouted, stance ready to fire, and Dipper reacted purely on instinct, dragging Mabel with himself to the floor before two loud bangs echoed.

Panicked, people began to scream and run around like flushed birds, obscuring Dipper’s view of whatever – or whoever – Cipher had shot at.

“Are you crazy?” Pacifica shrieked, but Cipher had already discarded his high heels and tied the trailing seam of his dress to his hip for more freedom of leg movement, gun at the ready.

“Dipper, cover me,” he said grimly and scanned the room full of running people.

“What did you see?” Dipper asked, drawing his gun and coming to stand behind his partner so they were back to back.

“Someone I thought dead. It can’t be a coincidence, not with what McGucket said to you, and all those cult killings. They … I knew them when I was still my father’s son. They shouldn’t know I’m here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Doesn’t matter. They are wearing a purple dress shirt and carry a cane with them. Be careful, they’re hiding a blade inside, so keep your distance. Scan the entrance hall and the dining hall, I’ll take the ballroom and the sitting room.”

“Copy that,” he huffed and broke out into a run in the direction of the entrance hall.

“Dipper!”

He turned around again. Cipher was staring at him with wide eyes, and for the first time Dipper wondered whether he was actually afraid.

“They’re here for me, not for you. Don’t take any stupid risks.”

“I’ll be fine,” he tried to say reassuringly, but his clogged up nose kind of destroyed his effort.

“Of course.”

Dipper ran past Mabel, Pacifica, Candy and Grenda huddled together in one corner on his way to the exit and told them to stay clear of the party rooms. He didn’t look back to check if they were doing as he said – he couldn’t spare the time to worry about them. Taking a deep breath he secured his grip on his gun and rounded the corner to the entrance hall. Most of the guests had run through here on their way to the exit, and currently it was empty. Still, he checked the space under the stairs and quickly alerted the security guards at the door to the presence of an armed person, giving them the description Cipher had provided him with.

“Check if they’ve fled upstairs,” he told them and went through the door leading to the dining hall without seeing whether they followed his advice or not. The tables were still decked with appetizers, sandwiches and other treats. There seemed to be no one here, but he quietly and efficiently checked all the hiding places behind curtains, tapestries and under tables. He was slowly lifting the tablecloth of the large banquet table, when there was a sudden, scuffling noise, and he whirled around quickly, pointing his gun.

“Put the gun down, Mr. Pines.”

“Mr. Northwest,” he whispered, incredulously watching as more and more security personnel came through the door behind Preston Northwest, their guns pointed at Dipper.

“I’m sorry, young man. But I have no choice. Put the gun down now, and no one has to get hurt.”

Breathing heavily he assessed his situation, but there were just too many. Slowly he held up his hands, indicating his surrender. As one of the security men disarmed him he wondered whether they had Cipher already.

“No funny business,” the one who held Dipper’s gun growled and gripped his elbow hard.

“Let’s see how Tad and Mr. Cipher are faring,” Preston Northwest drawled and led them to the ballroom. Dipper heard muffled groans, crashing sounds and a sharp cry coming from that direction, but he didn’t know if he should be glad that Cipher was still up and fighting.

Cipher and someone in a black and purple suit were near the other end of the ballroom, engaged in a wrestling match. The other person – Tad, apparently – was thrown onto the floor when Cipher swiped them off their feet, and then Cipher was straddling and choking them. There was a split second when he probably saw the small army of security men, and Dipper in their midst. Cipher’s grip must have lessened in his surprise, and suddenly Tad kneed him in the stomach, sending him flying with a strangled groan.

“Wait!” Preston Northwest shouted, just as Tad picked up their sword-cane from the floor.

Cipher used the moment Tad looked away from him to jump to his feet again and jump the other one from behind, getting them in a choking grip.

“Shoot and he’s dead,” he shouted, struggling to keep Tad between him and the security men hesitatingly pointing their guns at them.

“Kill him and your lover is dead,” Preston Northwest countered, snapping his fingers. Dipper froze, feeling the cold, hard press of a muzzle against his temple.

“He’s not my lover,” Cipher snarled, and just like that Dipper felt the adrenaline in his system get overpowered by his fear.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, breathing fast and shallow. Cipher was going to let him die. Of course he didn’t care, he was a fucking psychopath, he would always save his own hide. Dipper closed his eyes, whimpering. He just hoped Mabel wasn’t watching from behind a portrait or something. He didn’t want her to see him die.

“What do you want,” he heard Cipher ask.

“Well, if you’re asking … My friend Tad has told me about your hacking talents, Mr. Cipher. I have a laptop here, and I’m giving you five minutes to hack a bank account. The necessary information is given. You will conduct an untraceable transfer from this bank account here to one of mine. The sum I want you to steal is 150 million dollar.”

“I haven’t hacked a thing in ten years.”

“Liar,” came the croaking laugh from Tad, and then a muffled cough. Dipper, having calmed down slightly, opened his eyes again and carefully shifted his weight, slightly alleviating the gun’s pressure against his temple.

“Fine, so what if I have. Why should I do this for you?”

“As I said, I have your lover.”

“And as _I_ already said, he’s not my lover.”

Preston Northwest sighed.

“But you are nonetheless fond of him. And would you want him to lose his twin sister? Surely you’re not that heartless.”

Dipper whimpered, not daring to move any more than that as he saw two black-clad men drag in a screaming and kicking Mabel.

“… dare you, I’ll claw out your eyes, and just you see, I can- …” She froze, limply hanging between the two men as she saw Dipper with a gun pointed at his head. “Dipper!”

“It’s okay, Mabes,” he said, but his voice had gone up several octaves and trembled. He moaned in despair when tears rolled down her cheeks. His attempt at holding Mabel’s hand was cut short by a sharp stab between his ribs with a second gun, pointed at his lung.

“Now, Mr. Cipher. Have I made myself clear?”

Cipher growled and increased the pressure of his forearm against Tad’s esophagus before grunting and kicking them away. Tad laughed brokenly and leaned on their sword-cane.

“You have five minutes,” Preston Northwest said and gestured at one of the security men to hand Tad a laptop, who gave it to Cipher.

At first Cipher just stood there, clutching the laptop in a white-knuckled grip, eyes blazing. Then he looked at Dipper for a second, face unreadable.

“Fuck you all,” he spat then, giving Tad a dirty look and flopping down unceremoniously on the floor. He opened the laptop, balanced it on his lap and hesitated a few moments. Then he started typing.

Tad circled him with a manic grin, though they were rubbing their throat and hobbling strangely.

“Haven’t come that far, brother, have we?” they rasped and playfully poked Cipher’s knee with the tip of their cane, though it was slapped away.

“Shut up, Strange. You’re not my brother.”

Tad just laughed and limped across the room to stand in front of Dipper and Mabel. This close up Dipper had to admit there were certain similarities between Cipher and this Tad. He, too, had heterochromia iridum, though their eyes were blue-black instead of gold-black. And there was something about the tilt of their mouth as they grinned that reminded Dipper of Cipher, but not his partner Bill Cipher. It was the grin he’d seen in a video of a trial more than fifteen years ago.

“See,” Tad laughed and clapped his hands. Even his voice was similar, just as bright, though shriller and less controlled. “Even your lover can see we’re brothers. Don’t deny it and longer, Billie dear.”

“Twins?” Dipper whispered. Perhaps he could distract Tad. Perhaps …

“Oh yes, you see … Dear mother kept Billie darling, and gave me away.” He grinned brokenly, trembling as he fiddled with his cane. “Our dear daddy never knew, did he, Billie? Did he ever ask you about me? Did-did he look for me? Hm?”

“Don’t you dare bring him up,” Cipher snarled from across the ballroom.

“But daddy dear _loved_ you, didn’t he? He loved you _so much_ … Do you, d-do you _miss_ him, Billie?”

“Shut up!”

Dipper threw a quick glance over Tad’s shoulder at Cipher, still sitting on the floor and typing furiously. His face was contorted in a grimace of anger and pain.

“You took him away from me, you killed him, and I couldn’t find- …” Tad gasped and tore at his hair, eyes clenched shut. “When I found you, y-you were, you were his heir, you had already inherited everything, and they followed you and did as you said, and they said you were a genius, my genius brother, how- … How could I not love you, how could I not?”

“You almost sent me to prison for life,” came Cipher’s sharp retort over the noise of his frantic typing.

“I would have visited you, Billie. I would have been, we w-would have been a family, you and I. But then … you got a-away, and took everything away a-again! I can’t let you go this time, brother, you see, I have learned f-from my mistakes. And Mr. Northwest here has been so kind, s-so kind, and he will help me become better than you.”

“Whatever.” Cipher shook his head and stood suddenly, turning the laptop around. “There, 150 million dollars, transferred to your account as indicated. Untraceable. Now let us go.”

Mr. Northwest laughed.

“So you can call the FBI down on us? No thank you! Tad, would you be so kind?”

“Of course, Mr. Northwest!” Tad laughed, drew his sword-cane and whirled around. Dipper jerked away instinctively, watching with horror as he swung the blade. A painful grip on Dipper’s arm kept him from moving, and time seemed to pass slower as the sword arced through the air. Then he froze, waiting for the pain to bloom on his stomach, but it didn’t come.

“Dipper …”

Numbly he turned his head, ignoring the press of the gun against his skin.

“M-Mabel? Mabes?”

She coughed and sank to her knees. Tad gave a jittery laugh.

“Y-you see, I find that the loss of a sibling can be so, so much more painful than a simple flesh would,” he said.

“Oh, god, Mabel.” Dipper felt his legs crumble beneath him until he could wind his arms around his sister. Her pink dress had torn across her abdomen, and there was blood, oh god, there was so much blood. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, it’ll be alright, shh …”

“She didn’t do anything wrong, you monster!”

Dipper clenched his eyes shut when a shadow fell over them and something shattered on the floor. He braced himself, curling his body around his sister’s, ready to shield her from any blows, but none came. A loud crack and a blood-curdling scream made him shudder, and he gripped Mabel’s hand, pressed against the wound in her abdomen. Something brushed against his cheek and he flinched away, causing Mabel to release a cry when he jostled their hands. Several gunshots echoed through the room, and something in him took over control – something rational and calculated. He hauled Mabel up so he could carry her away from the fighting, sliding them both under a table, from which he filched a knife originally to be used to cut fruit. Well, he wasn’t as good in close quarters as with a gun, but it was better than nothing.

From under the tablecloth he got a good look at the situation – Cipher must have managed to disarm some guards and get their guns, and had barricaded himself behind the corner of an alcove. Four of the security men already lay motionless on the ground, and he could see several hunching behind their abysmal covers, clutching legs or arms. Preston Northwest and Tad were nowhere to be seen.

“Dipper?”

“Shh, it’s okay, Ci- … Bill will take care of the bad guys,” he whispered and helped Mabel press down on her wound.

“Pacifica, and Candy, and Grenda,” she whimpered.

“Are they upstairs?”

“I don’t know, Pacifica … was trying to get us to a-a secret passage … They snatched me before I could go through.”

“They’re safe, then,” he tried to reassure her, but the next volley of gunshots made them both freeze in fear. Dipper lifted the tablecloth again. Eight motionless guards. Only two more to go, since some had apparently fled. Those two didn’t look so convinced either.

“Surrender or die!” Cipher shouted then, and one of them dropped his weapon. The other one grimly aimed his gun, but before he could shoot, a bullet hit him square between the eyes. Before the first, who had surrendered, could flee another bullet felled him. Dipper winced and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It’s over, Mabel, we’re gonna get some help now,” Dipper whispered to his sister and carefully moved them out of their hiding place. She was whimpering softly under her breath and clung weakly to him, and he was frantically trying to figure out where there might be a phone.

“Cipher!” he called over his shoulder, giving up on trying to move Mabel and curling protectively around her.

“I don’t know where Northwest and Tad are,” Cipher’s bright voice came from Dipper’s left, and when he looked up he could see him looming over him and Mabel, reloading his gun.

“Your dress,” Mabel whined.

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Cipher said and gave her a soft smile. It was true, the golden fabric was torn in multiple places and soiled with blood and something that looked like punch. But worse were the bruises already forming on his arms and on his face. His left eye was swollen, his lip was split, bleeding terribly, and his nose looked like it was broken.

“We need an ambulance,” was all Dipper could say when Cipher handed him a gun and some spare ammo. The fruit knife he put in his jacket.

“I’ll look for a phone. You stay here, and shoot anyone who isn’t a paramedic.”

“Or police.”

Cipher raised an eyebrow, and Dipper looked away, familiarizing himself with the grip and weight of the unfamiliar gun. It was a different model than the one the FBI used. Cipher must have taken it from one of the guards.

He hadn’t even realized that Cipher had gone when he returned already. Startled, Dipper nearly shot him.

“Good reflexes,” Cipher breathed and grabbed Mabel’s feet. “Let’s carry her to the front door, the ambulance will be here soon. Keep pressure on it, Mabel, there’s a good girl.”

She cried out when they hauled her off the floor, but she did as Cipher told her and breathed in a deliberate rhythm.

“So brave,” Cipher muttered, smiling at her reassuringly. “It’s gonna be fine, just you see, they’ll be here soon, and then you’re gonna be right as rain. Isn’t that right, Dipper? Look how well Mabel is doing. Eyes on me, girl, don’t fall asleep, okay? Just breathe and keep pressure on it. You’re doing so well.”

By the time they made it to the entrance hall, Dipper could hear the sirens. When men in paramedics’ uniform appeared in the door with a stretcher he could have wept. They immediately swarmed her, taking care of her. Cipher was talking to one of them, and Dipper was hauled alongside the stretcher. Someone must have told them he was Mabel’s brother, because they allowed him to climb into the ambulance without any questions asked. Before he could grasp what was happening, the doors closed and they drove away at neck-breaking speed.

Fingers were weakly squeezing his hand, and he looked down, realizing he’d been holding Mabel’s hand the whole time. He only withdrew when the paramedics needed the space to access her wound. There was a steady stream of conversation, and once he could hear Mabel laughing weakly, but Dipper felt like he was detached from everything.

Distantly, he felt strong hands wrapping him in a blanket and pressing a cup in his hand, urging him to drink, but it was all happening so fast.

“Cipher? Bill,” he murmured after a while, realizing his partner wasn’t with them.

They must have arrived at the hospital then, because there was frantic movement all around him again, and he was led out of the ambulance. They brought Mabel on the stretcher, and suddenly he was alone.

Someone came to get his name and a short description of what happened, a nurse looked at his nose – it wasn’t broken – and later someone told him that Mabel was in surgery. He just nodded and drew the blanket around his shoulders a bit tighter.

After what felt like hours Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland came and asked him a few questions, but honestly, he wasn’t listening or minding what he was saying. He just wanted his sister. He wanted to see her and make sure she was okay.

“We contacted your uncle,” was all he could remember hearing, and something in him relaxed.

Grunkle Stan arrived just a few minutes later, shouting gibberish and dressed just in his underwear. He only calmed down when he saw Dipper and embraced him tightly.

“Dipper,” he choked out.

“She’s in surgery,” was all he could say before he burst into tears.

They sat there on these uncomfortable plastic chairs, huddled together to shelter against the cold and the fear of loss. People passed them, time passed, still they did not move. A nurse came and told them Mabel was still in surgery, but it was looking good. Grunkle Stan went to buy them some cheap, watery coffee. The hot beverage nearly scorched Dipper’s palms through the thin plastic cup, and it burned in his throat, but that was good. It reminded him that he was still here and alive, and that he needed to stay awake.

The caffeine had just started to make him jittery when Soos burst through the entrance, Pacifica, Grenda and Candy huddled behind him.

“Where is she?” he shouted and dramatically went to his knees in front of Dipper, clutching his trembling hands in his great paws.

“Surgery,” Dipper bit out, looking at Pacifica over Soos’ head.

“M-my god, I-I’m s-so sor-ry,” she was sobbing on and on, barely standing. If not for Grenda’s strong arm around her waist she would probably have fallen.

Tiredly Dipper swayed between the solid wall of Grunkle Stan’s shoulder to his right and Soos’ warmth on his left, blending out Pacifica’s mantra of apology. Paradoxically, the sharp smell of disinfection and plastic became less intense when he closed his eyes, so he just … just for a bit …

Dipper jolted awake when a hand shook his shoulder.

“Wha- …?”

“Dipper, we can see Mabel now. She’s asleep, but okay.”

“Where?” he choked out, tears springing to his eyes. Grunkle Stan patted his arm gently.

“Come on, kid, let’s go see your sister.”

They held onto each other as crutches on the way to the room where they put Mabel. The first thing Dipper noticed was his twin’s paleness in contrast even to the white sheets, but especially to her beautiful, wild hair. He knelt by the bed, cradling Mabel’s hand and reaching out to touch the unruly locks.

“Hey Mabes,” he breathed and rested his forehead against the edge of the bed.

▲▼▲

“There is a … Manuela Ruiz here to see you?” a nurse told them uncertainly, peeking her head into the room where Mabel lay. She and Dipper exchanged a confused glance and shrugged.

“Let her in, I suppose,” Mabel said with a polite smile.

The door opened further, and a small woman in a trench coat entered. Her light brown hair was done up in a neat bun, and she smiled at them with red painted lips. Something about the arch of this mouth and the tilt of her hips reminded Dipper of something, but half her face was obscured by the large sunglasses she wore.

“Hello you two, how have you been?”

“Oh my god,” Dipper choked out. “Bill?”

“Shh,” he hissed and removed the glasses, but his black-golden eyes glinted with mirth.

“I heard you were on the run,” Mabel cried.

“Yeah, something like that. They wanted to court-martial me, and I thought _meh_ …” He made a vague gesture. “By the time they would have decided I was in the right to shoot those motherfuckers Tad and Preston Northwest would be on the other side of the world with no trace left. At least they arrested this Gideon-creep.”

“So you found them?”

“Not yet, but I have some leads. I thought I’d check up on you two before I leave the country.”

“You’re leaving?” Mabel whined. “What if those people come back? You have to protect us!”

“Which is what I’ll be doing – by getting as far away from you as possible,” Bill said softly.

“You’re going to kill them, aren’t you?” Dipper asked, torn between anger and disappointment.

“I’m not sure yet about Preston Northwest, but yes, if the opportunity arises I’m going to kill Tad.”

“Even though he’s your brother?”

Bill flinched.

“He’s not my brother. He’s a monster, and monsters have to be hunted and put down.”

Dipper met his gaze head-on, refusing to show weakness.

“This isn’t right, and you know it. You should work together with the FBI, or the CIA. They can help you.”

“They are held back by laws and morale. I’m more efficient.”

“At what cost?”

This time Bill snarled and came a step closer, pointing a manicured finger at Dipper.

“You have no right to judge me.”

“Hey, boys, play nice alright?” Mabel cut in, her voice sweet but no-nonsense at the same time. Chastised, Dipper looked at his and Mabel’s joined hands, and he could hear Bill step away again.

“I should go, someone’s gotta notice I looped the cameras,” he said and opened the door.

“Wait!” Dipper called and stood awkwardly.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath and went to stand close enough that he could feel Bill’s breath on his face. A black and a golden eye were looking at him with something akin to shock.

“Take care, alright?” Dipper whispered and leaned forward to kiss Bill on the cheek, but Bill turned his head at the last moment so their lips connected instead.

“Well, now I gotta come back for more, don’t I,” Bill murmured with a sly grin and slipped out the door.

▲▼▲


End file.
